I used to be the type of girl who loved flowers. All girls love flowers, right? And why shouldn't they?! They're beautiful and fragrant and a sign that someone was thinking about you.
And if I was the type of girl who would water them and press them and take pictures of them and chat about them to friends then you could get me flowers.
Or maybe I would pick each one, giving them to random friends. Or kids. Or something.
All that would be well and good. But what if I forgot about them and let them sit in the corner of my living room for three months? The red roses with a big red bow around the vase would be the laughingstock of the fresh spring bouquet that is fake because everyone knows I don't take care of living things well.
And when it is brought to my attention that these flowers have passed their prime, I would say "I'll throw them away" but I'm too forgetful to do so.
So then. Finally. I decide it's time to throw them away. There's nothing else to do with them. I was too neglectful. So I take the huge dead display of roses out to my car, deciding they would be better off in the dumpster. Some dead petals fall off on the carpet before I even make it outside. When I finally get to my car, without shoes of course, I put them in the passenger seat keeping them steady with one hand as the other steers. Now I'm just frustrated. The gross water is sloshing about and I swear if that gets everywhere I will...be very angry!
At the dumpster, I decide to throw the whole thing away. Vase and all. Because that is just how much I don't care. A few stray petals linger in my car that will probably be there until 2016.
Icing on the cake comes when I get back in my car and make the circle back home it starts pouring down raining. So now I'm running inside, shoeless, frustrated, and cursing roses.
Seriously, don't get me flowers.
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